


Day Thirty-Eight

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: 30+ Days of TFW Imagines [38]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, Episode: s07e02 Hello Cruel World, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, Worried!Dean, Worried!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine being the only one who can pull Sam out of his hallucinations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Thirty-Eight

“You should probably wake up Sam,” you say, tossing Dean a water bottle and a power bar. “It’s been almost twelve hours. Give him these.”

You lean against doorway, watching as Dean lays a gentle hand on Sam's chest to wake his brother. Sam startles, eyes snapping open.

“Whoa!” Dean says, hands held up in a placating gesture. “That’s twelve hours straight. I'm calling that rested. Here.” He hands Sam the bottle and power bar. “Hydrate and, uh, protein-ate.”

Sam takes the items, using his elbows to push himself into a sitting position. “Breakfast in bed.”

“Yeah, well, don't get used to it.”

You smile fondly, crossing the room to kneel down beside the couch. “Hey, babe. Let me see that hand.”

When he sets his hand in yours, you gently peel back the bandages. It’s a little bruised and swollen, but the stitches look fine and there’s no sign of infection so far.

“You’ll live,” Dean observes. “Here.”

He passes you a bottle of whiskey and you pour a little over the cut. Sam hisses in pain, yanking his hand back.

“Easy,” you say soothingly. Bobby passes you clean bandages.

“So, ooz invasion,” Sam says as you wrap his hand. “Any leads?”

Bobby shakes his head. “I got all my feelers out. Whatever they’re up to, it ain’t – ain’t about going Mothra down Main Street. They’ll turn up.”

“Mmm,” Sam says thoughtfully as you tape down the bandage.

“We’ve got other problems to worry about, too,” you say. “How are you doing? And don't you dare say you're ‘okay’, because I know you're not.”

“I’m not okay,” Sam admits.

“You think?” Dean says harshly.

“Go easy on him,” you say, glaring at the elder Winchester brother.

“There’s nothing easy about it, Y/N, okay? We acted like he had everything under control.”

Sam rubs his good hand over his face. “I get it. I’m sorry. Look, I- I didn’t exactly want to crack up, you know?”

You lay a hand on his knee. “Sam, what happened back there?” you ask, keeping your voice low and gentle.

“Well, it's not just flashbacks anymore,” Sam sighs.

“Well, then what?” Dean asks, frowning.

“It’s more like... I’m seeing through the cracks,” your boyfriend explains.

His brother is not pleased, that much is clear, but he’s also worried. Whatever Dean may be and whatever he’s done in the past, you have to admit, he loves Sam. “What does that mean?”

“It means I'm having a difficult time figuring out what's real.”

“Hallucinations,” you say.

“For starters.”

“Well for starters, if you’re tripping Hell’s Bells, why would you hide that?” Dean asks.

“I wasn’t hiding it, Dean,” Sam replies. “I – I was just not talking about it. I mean it seemed like you two had enough going on as it was. Look, I – I just figured, try to hold onto the safety bar and ride it out, you know? But it’s getting more specific.”

“What do you mean, specific?” you inquire, exchanging concerned glances with Dean and Bobby.

X X X X X X

Dean pours he and Bobby a glass of whiskey each- you despise alcohol- and slams the bottle down a little too forcefully. He turns to look at his little brother.

“What the hell, Sam?” he blurts.

“I told you,” Sam says.

“I mean seriously,” Dean says. “How do you, how do you argue with that?”

“I know. It’s a problem.”

“Well now wait, I got it,” the older Winchester says, holding up a hand. “Why would the Devil holodeck you a whole new life when he could just kick your ass all over the Cage?”

“‘Cause, as he puts it, you can't torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away.” You note how Sam glances at the doorway to the kitchen as he finishes talking.

“Okay, fine,” Dean says. “But this Malibu dream mansion that he, he, he makes for you to take away is this post-apocalyptic mess?”

Sam glances at the doorway again. This time, Dean notices, too.

“Wait, are you seeing him right now?” he snaps.

Sam nods, eyes lowered.

“You know he’s not real, right?” Dean says.

“He says the same thing about you,” Sam responds.

Something in his voice breaks your heart. You step forward to stand behind him. Dean opens his mouth to stop you, but you just glare. You gently place your hands on Sam's shoulders, massaging. He immediately relaxes, head falling back. The relief is practically coming off him in waves.

“I’m going back to work,” Bobby says, downing his whiskey and leaving the room. Dean looks like he wants to say more, but thinks better of it and leaves as well.

Alone at last, Sam tips his head to look up at you.

“Thanks,” he murmurs as your fingers rub expert circles along the back of his neck.

“My pleasure,” you respond, bending to kiss his cheek. “Come on, let's get some real food in you.”

X X X X X X

“Well, at least he's not curled up under the sink,” Bobby says, glancing to wear Sam is cleaning his guns at the desk in the study.

“Yeah, no, he’s just sitting there silently field-stripping his weapon,” Dean says bitterly. He grabs Sam's phone out of his jacket pocket, which is draped over the back of a kitchen chair.

“What are you doing?” you ask, looking up from the files Bobby has pulled up on his computer.

“Turning on his GPS, case he decides to fly the cuckoo’s nest,” is the response.

You roll your eyes and sigh. “I’m going to help Sam clean the guns.”

X X X X X X

You look up as Dean comes in and sets a paper sack of groceries on the counter.

“Hey there Gunga Din, buck up,” Bobby says, twisting in his seat to look at the other man.

“So it looks like we got some bad news for a change,” Sam explains. “Stockville North Kansas, most of a high school swim team got mangled to death in their locker room.”

“Cop talk on the wire’s kind of garbled, saying it looks like some kind of wild animal attack,” Bobby adds, getting up and walking around to Sam's side of the table. “They’re saying that whatever attacked them’s about the size of a linebacker.”

“It’s a lead, Dean,” you say.

“All right,” Dean says. “But if you” he points at Sam “think you’re going out on a hunt…”

“No, I know. I’m not,” Sam says. “But you and Y/N are.”

“Sam,” you start.

He cuts you off. “Look, Bobby’s running the hub, I’m – I’m 5150’d, which leaves you and Dean to follow this thing up.”

“Sam, you’re in the middle of a psychotic break,” Dean points out.

“It’s a couple hours’ drive, Dean, and it could be a Leviathan thing.”

You shake your head. “If you think I'm leaving you here alone-”

“Hey. What am I, chopped brains on toast?” Bobby says, grabbing papers from a shelf and bringing them back to his seat. “I can eyeball the kid. Go. Work off some of these nerves on something useful.”

You and Dean both shrug. “Fine,” he says, though he doesn't sound pleased.

X X X X X X

You smooth your slacks and follow Dean into the high school.

“Special Agent Anderson,” he says, flashing the officer at the door to the locker room his badge. “This is Special Agent Swift.” He smiles at the officer inside the room examining a blood splatter on the wall.

“Yeah, okay,” the officer inside the room says. “Our point cop’s out on the donut” You and Dean duck under the caution tape. “Forensics,” the man says, gesturing to himself. “I can show you the layout. And step lightly. We got a whole bunch of NC17 shiznickel right over there.” he points to your right. You make a face, watching the floor.

“Right,” Dean says.

You split, Dean headed in the direction the forensics guy just pointed. Out of the corner of your eye you see him approach the entrance to the showers. He’s examining the entryway when something seems to catch his eye.

“Damnit,” he curses.

X X X X X X

The phone rings a few times before Sam picks up.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Hey, babe,” you say with a smile. “We are positive for ick. Dean found the same kind of stuff that came out of Cas at the crime scene, plus two of the kids are missing. They stole one of their parents’ cars.”

“So you think these, um, these Leviathan things just jump into people? Like Eve did?”

“Makes sense, I guess. The state troopers have surveillance footage from about six hours ago of the kids gassing up near the South Dakota state line, so we’re headed back your way. We can just track ‘em from Bobby’s. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Great. How’re you feeling?”

There’s a bit of a pause before Sam answers. “Ya know, uh, okay.” He's trying to sound sure of himself, but he’s not quite getting there.

“Alright,” you say. “Well, we’ll be back soon. Just, hang in there.”

X X X X X X

When you and Dean get back to Bobby’s house, all the windows are dark. Concerned, you head inside.

“Sam?” you call. “Bobby?”

There’s no response.

“Sammy?” you call again.

“Y/N, what's up?” Dean says, coming inside.

You whirl to face him. “Sam's gone. I'm going to go find him.”

Before he can respond, you grab the Impala keps from his hand and book it out to the car.

You’ve only been driving a few minutes when Dean calls with a location he pulled off the GPS on Sam's phone. You thank him, committing the address to memory, and hang up.

X X X X X X

The address is to a warehouse. There’s a big black van you recognize from Bobby’s yard parked outside, still running. You park behind the van and get out.

Luckily, it doesn't take you long to find a door. You push it open and step inside.

The interior of the warehouse is pretty much empty and well lit enough for you to see Sam standing about forty feet from the door, his gun in one hand. He looks so lost and scared.

“Sam!” you say, relieved.

He lifts the gun, pointing at you.

“Whoa!” You hold your hands up. “Sam, it's me!”

“First Dean and now Y/N?” he says.

“Dean?” You’re confused. “Dean's back at Bobby’s. I pretty much stole the Impala. He's not going to be pleased when we get back.”

“I came here with Dean,” Sam says.

“Dean's not here,” you say. “I’m here, though. It’s me, baby.”

“You have to understand, I can't know that for sure.”

“I get that,” you assure him. “We’ll just start small.”

“I don’t remember driving here,” Sam says. He sounds terrified.

Suddenly, he whirls and fires at nothing.

“Whoa, Sam!” you call, moving slowly closer. “This discussion does not require weapons.”

He slowly lowers the gun, chest heaving in a way that, at any other time, you would find incredibly hot.

“Sammy, sweetheart.” You step closer, hands held out in a gesture of peace. “C’mon, give me the gun.”

Reluctantly, Sam hands it over. You unload it, click the safety on, and toss it behind you. You take his still outstretched hand, the good one, and weave your fingers together,

“Sam,” you murmur. “Is this a hallucination? We weren't together before the Cage. Lucifer wouldn't know about us. Sammy, look at me.”

Scared hazel eyes lift to your face.

“There you are.” You gently draw him closer to you, slipping your free arm around his waist and laying your head against his chest. “I’m here, baby boy. I'm real.”

He's tense for what feels like forever. Then, very slowly, he relaxes. A choked sob escapes his throat and he clings to you, burying his face in your hair.

“Shh, shh,” you whisper, holding him close. “I’m here. Everything’s going to be alright.”

X X X X X X

Everything is not alright, seeing as when you get back to the house it's burned down and Dean is missing. Then a Leviathan attacks and you end up going to the hospital Sam says Bobby went to check out.

Everything is definitely not alright. But you’ve found a way to get through Sam's hallucinations and that's as good a place as any to start.  


End file.
